The Pit and Where It Leads
by Spider Milkshake
Summary: Follow Dria, a feisty mousemaid, into the pit to find where it leads.
1. A Mousemaid's Journey

The Pit and Where It Leads

* * *

Chapter 1:

A Mousemaid's Journey

* * *

The lost rodent maiden scrambled forward on all fours, completely turned around in the pitch blackness of the pit under the sycamore she had fled under. She could still hear the angry shouts of the slaver foxes, and the scraping of their spears and caning rods as they probed into the loamy tunnel after the escapee.

Dria did not want to think about what might have made the tunnel. For now, freedom and blind panic were her only motives. The tunnel was quite narrow, but big enough for a mousemaid to scurry through. She would not have been able to stand, however. The roots hanging from the roof brushed her headfur and littered it with earth. Gradually the voices of the slavers grew quieter.

Stopping for a rest, Dria panted loudly in the dark, her heart beating in her ears after such a wild escape. She felt about, coming up with paws full of soil and the ends of roots rubbed smooth by whatever had constructed the tunnel. But the way was still open, with no end in sight. A waft of warm, stale air arose from deeper within. There was nothing else for it but to carry on.

The further she went from those horrible marauding foxes, the better she felt. The air from within the tunnel was somewhat pleasant, and had a slightly sweet, grassy or earthy smell to it, like a flowerbed or... she couldn't tell what else.

Now curious, she pressed on, determined to reach the end of the tunnel to see what had built it and why. And to find another way out, one that was not guarded by slaving vermin. Now that she had grown used to her freedom it did not hold such a high priority in her mind. The gaping hole which kept leading down was now all that mattered.

"Thhsssssss..." the noise started out very low and soft, and Dria almost missed it entirely. The fourth time it sounded, she cocked her head to the side and paused. It sounded like a faint wind. Was the exit on a hill, some ways away? Did it open out to a dizzying cliffside where eagles had their eyries? She prayed that it wasn't option two. There was little chance she'd have of escaping an eagle if it was hungry enough. She carried on.

"Thhssssss..." the sibilant noise grew louder, though by no means was it harsh or loud to begin with. Dria revised her earlier thought; it wasn't like wind. It was almost like air escaping from something, like a bellows or a punctured sporting ball. Eager to discover the source of the sound, she continued even more vigorously, grunting with effort as she shimmied into a particularly narrow portion of the pit.

"Thhssssss..." Now it was starting to annoy the mousemaid. She set her jaw in a line and put on more speed, almost running on paws and knees down the narrow way.

"Thhsss-_-sss!_"

Dria let out a light squeak as she collided with something big and immobile. Groping in the dark she felt a dry, but fairly smooth surface that gave a little, like a sponge.

Or flesh. Dria froze. The object moved, slipping out of her reach and going beyond her senses. There was no doubting what it was that was making the hissing now.

The hissing stopped and was replaced by a low rumble, and a rustling sound. Dria shrank back as she felt something feathery and slightly moist whisk by her whiskers. The earthen walls of the tunnel stopped her, and she pressed herself against them, hoping to go unnoticed by the snake.

There was more rustling, increasing in volume and frequency. Another waft of warm air fluttered by. Then there was silence. Dria sat there for what felt like days, but was really only about a few minutes.

"H-hello?" she called out, but quietly. She was no fool. Somebeast had told her long ago that adders and every other kind of snake were deaf. Not so. They didn't look like they had ears, but by Jove there was no doubting from the stories she'd heard about near misses with the monsters that they did, and they worked supremely well.

There was no answer, neither a welcome voice or threatening hissing. Another agonizing pause, and she felt her way forward. Where the snake had once lay coiled up was still very warm to the touch and compacted down. Dria shuddered. It had had to have been a massive serpent to do that. This was no ordinary smooth snake. It was either an adder or a large grass snake. Either was incredibly deadly for a single mousemaid.

But wherever the serpent was, it was no longer here. The tunnel had widened to a chamber, round and just tall enough for Dria to stand in. She walked along hesitantly, not wishing to blunder into the snake again. But she followed the pressed-down earth that followed in the huge reptile's wake anyhow. The snake would know its way out of its own den, and if it was startled by the mousemaid's sudden intrusion then logically it would stay on the safe side and flee. And no snake was stupid enough to run away from a threat into a dead end. They were far to cunning for that.

"Hello?" she tried again, this time more boldly. There was no answer once again. She breathed a sigh of relief in the hope that the snake had decided to leave its den rather than deal with an intruder. For such a large serpent, this was a tiny abode. It probably did not have room to strike in the cramped tunnel, not without risking injuring itself. Dria carried on confidently, keeping one fair paw to the wall to keep her sense of up and down in the blackness.

"Thhssssss..."

Dria scowled, now feeling emboldened by the snake's lack of malice thusfar. So it was still here. She felt tempted to sneak up on it, nip it in the tail, scare its scales off just for terrifying her like that. Also, if it was still in the pit, it would be blocking the entrance. She padded forward warily, any minute expecting to feel the wall of scaly coils at pawslength again.

"Thssss... Zsssss..." the serpent had changed the rhythm of its vocalizations. Dria flinched as she thought about it; could that mean the creature had sensed her approach and was preparing to strike? There was nothing else for it. It was either go forward, and risk being devoured, or turn back and stumble right back into the grubby paws of her worst enemies.

She chose to go forward, favoring that way's worst possible outcome to the other's. At least an adder would be so kind as to kill her. All the foxes cared about was profit, and profit meant tormenting otherbeasts for the rest of their tortured lives.

Putting a paw forth, she gasped at the sensation of a blunt scaly snout. One of her fingers accidentally went right in the serpent's left nostril.

"_Ssss!_" Once again it drew away, this time knocking Dria temporarily off balance with the sudden flow of coils. She felt a nubby tail flick by her face as the creature once again retreated.

Dria could not stop shivering; try as she might to get her nerve back it was failing. She had been less than a pawslength from the beast's wedge-shaped head-_-_barely a step from the deadly venomous fangs. She was sure that had the serpent not been surprised by her again, she would have been very dead at that moment. All blue and purple and swollen... Ugh..! She could not banish the old tales out of her head. They were so common among woodlander fires, late at night, dire warnings to all the young ones not to play in the woods at night, or leave their mothers' sight after dusk.

Silence reigned again. A slightly cooler breeze stirred her whiskers. She looked down at her trembling paws. She told them to stop violently in her own head, but they did not listen.

Then she blinked. She could faintly make out the shapes of her paws. She could see-_-_the darkness was no longer total. That had to mean she was nearing an exit, and that it was still daytime. Longing to be outside, she buried her fears and staggered to her footpaws, dashing pell-mell down the now-definite tunnel. With every stride her vision grew clearer.

She skidded to a halt, this time seeing her foe before bumping into it. An olive and black diamond-backed length of coils lay in her path, directly in the entrance to another, larger, and even better lit chamber. She stalked cautiously forward, searching for the head and being chilled to the core that she could not find it yet. The head was the most dangerous part. She hated to think the serpent was now worming its upper lengths through a backtrack tunnel from the big chamber, looping around to come up behind her and trap her. She peered all around for any evidence of this, but the sight of anything but the coil in her way was all that was to be found. Taking a deep breath and letting it out, she snuck up close to the thick serpent's body. It wasn't dead, definitely not. She could make out each time it breathed, the scales straining slightly like chinking armor as the girth of the snake expanded, then retracted. She was near its head then, if its lungs were so near.

"Thhssss..." the hiss was very close, almost at her ear. Dria reached out, wondering if she would be fast enough to vault over the snake's back and make a wild run for the exit before the creature chose to strike out. Probably not. But she did not feel like giving up. Her life was worth a risk or two, and her freedom was worth all the dangers she'd ever encountered combined. She placed a paw on the serpent's back and readied her jump.

To her surprise, the snake did not react with a swift lash in her direction. Instead it twitched like the flanks of a horse bothered by flies, then slowly started slithering off. It nearly took Dria along with it, her paw placed on the creature's scales like it was. Drawing her paw away, she watched in strange fascination as the endless coils slunk away, up a gradual slope on the other side of the dim earthen room. Very briefly she saw its head, a great triangular thing, before it disappeared over the lip of the next bend in the tunnel. Its eyes had been a bright golden yellow, slitted vertically and seeming to be in a permanent scowl from the heavy dark green scale slanted over each eye. Dria summoned up her courage and gamely followed in the wake of the snake's tail.

The light grew strong, as did her view of the adder's undulating coils as it slid across the smoothed soil at a leisurely pace in front of her. Dria kept up a swift walk in order to keep up with the creature. It seemed to be ignoring her. The mousemaid counted herself lucky that the adder was not hunting nor seemed to want to take advantage of her vulnerable position. Soon the light burst into the last tunnel chamber, causing Dria to have to put a paw up over her sensitive eyes.

The adder turned towards her, and blinded by the sun she almost stumbled into its head once again. With a shriek she fell backwards onto her tail. The huge head waved over her with a subtle weaving motion, its black forked tongue flicking out and passing less than a pawslength from her face. Its harvest moon eyes were staring right at her, with no change in expression, and not a single blink. Dria held perfectly still, praying that the snake would lose interest and carry on its way.

"Thhsss... Thssszsss..." it hissed in its sibilant voice again, still staring at her calmly. Dria very slowly reached out a paw to her side, feeling along the ground for anything that might help to fight off this serpent should it attack. Her paw met an old pine branch, and she grasped it firmly. The adder's eyes flitted over to the stick, then back to her, then back to the stick again.

It lowered its head to the ground and slithered around her. The mousemaid scooted hurriedly to continue facing the creature's most dangerous part, keeping a firm hold on her improvised weapon. The adder went in a complete circle around her, leaving a ring of its own scaly body in its wake, surrounding Dria. The mouse did not realize it until it had already happened, and then she was filled with dread. She had come so close to escaping the tunnel and its frightening inhabitant, and now she felt she was doomed. If only she had run on first sight of the light of day. Maybe she could have gotten past the snake without it having a chance to strike out. Maybe not. It was worth the risk.

Standing with shaking knees, the mousemaid held the pine branch like a bat and took a few experimental swings. She glared in the face of the serpent and let vent to her fiery will to live.

"Alright, you scaly cretin," she growled, "One false move an' I whack you upside the head so hard yore flippy tongue'll come out yore nose!"

The snake paused in its laying of its coils and raised a short length of its thick neck off the ground, staring at her intensely. Its tongue came out once again, coming close to nicking the end of the branch. The snake opened its mouth very slightly, and to Dria's great surprise a deep female voice came out.

"Bold little moussse..." she said. Dria blinked and almost lowered her stick, fear and frayed nerves the only thing stopping her from doing so. "Why do you thhhreaten me with ssstick..?"

"Why d'you think, slimesnout?" Dria's voice cracked and shrilled up an octave. The adder did not seem perturbed, though it did raise slightly more of its length up and lean it over closer to the mousemaid.

"Thhhssss..." the snake's face was close to the edge of Dria's striking range, but for some reason the mouse could not force her muscles to comply with her desire to brain it right in the snout. "I did not enter your houssse..." Dria felt that the snake was meaning to be accusing her with that little statement, but it was hard to tell with the adder's quiet, smooth tone. "You entered my houssse, hit me, ran into me, you did not asssk..."

"I don't need to ask, serpent, th' land belongs to all!" Dria blurted out, gripping the stick tighter. The adder lowered her head again.

"Ah. Ssso I may enter your houssse without asssking then..." the snake's eyes carried a glimmer of amusement which was plain even for the terrified mousemaid to see.

"N-no!" Dria cursed herself. She certainly sounded silly there. She could not believe she was being bested mentally by a cold, hard, cruel-fanged, evil reptile as this. "Well, it doesn't matter! What matters is, you so much as think about havin' yoreself a liddle mouse appetizer I'll bust yore brainbox open! An' that's a promise!"

This time the serpent blinked, a blurry thin lid beneath the goggle-like upper one swishing over its eyes very briefly. The snake drew its head back slightly, staring at her with one side of its head cocked upwards.

"You are a very ssstrange moussse..." the adder finally murmured. Unwinding her massive coils, she began to ease off across the leaf litter, making a low continuous crunch. "If I had wanted to eat you, I would not have bothhhered to ssspeak..."

Dria felt waves of relief as the circle of scaly flesh slipped away, leaving her free to move again. The adder slipped away, into the woodlands, with not a further word. She was soon lost to view, and Dria noticed the birds twittering in the high oak treetops again. Free of the slavers, the serpent not a threat anymore, she had a feeling in her breast unlike any she had ever known.

This was freedom. She was free!

* * *

Seasons passed, many long ones and a few that felt far too short for Dria's liking. Wandering the land the remainder of the summer, she came across a place built of red stone, a big place inhabited by many goodbeasts. Taking her in kindly, the Abbeydwellers showed Dria a world that she had never seen before-_-_one where everybeast lived in harmony and worked for the goodwill of all, never dreaming of a reward except their own camaraderie.

Well, that was how it was always versed in the poems and songs, but in truth it was nearly like that. There were some who expected reward for their duties, and got rather ticked when it did not come. And there were lazybeasts there as well, and of course some who were prone to a bit of temper clouding their virtue every once and a while. It didn't shock nor bother the mousemaid one bit; even this was better than the camp of slavers or a hovel in the woodlands. She took up the forest green habit and donned a cowl, beginning her career as an Abbey Sister after scarcely three seasons of learning.

"Move along the line, liddle scamps." She pushed gently on the back of a hedgehog Dibbun, urging him to make space for a pair of mouse twins, "You need to all make room so we all can get to the fun part!" She smiled down at them. Working with the Dibbuns was her favorite duty. They seemed to really respond to her.

She even once got the notorious squirrelbabe Leonal to take a bath with little fuss once. Her fame rang throughout the Abbey for that.

"Here, each of you take a basket," Dria passed out a few to the orphan babes and sons and daughters of Abbeydwellers alike, "You each get one. Don't fight over them," she deftly separated two volebabes pulling on the same basket, "There's enough for all of you. Now, we're going to have a fun contest today instead of chores. How does that sound?"

The Dibbuns let up a murmur, with happy squeals in the pauses, of excitement at this. Dria swept around the corner of Cavern Hole and rounded them all up again after some had wriggled and jigged their way out of line. Going back to the front quietly as a shadow, she explained the rules to the Dibbun mob as if she had never left the spot.

"First, we all have one basket apiece," she indicated the small woven objects, "The rules of the contest are very simple. Whoever collects the most wonderful ripe fruit from the orchard wins a special prize."

"What be surprise, Sista Dria?" a mousebabe held up his paw. She wagged a finger at him.

"You'll see when the contest is over. Now let's get out to the orchard, dears, and get the game started!"

The Dibbuns cheered and murmured, speculating among themselves what the prize for winning the game would be. Sister Dria chuckled to herself as she watched them scurry up the stairs towards Great Hall and the doors to the orchard. An older creature, a hedgehog by the name of Brother Flint met the band of roaring squeaking rogues and nearly was run over by them. Hobbling and out of breath from his close shave, he tottered up to Dria and cast a wary look to where the Dibbuns had gone.

"What in tarnation is goin' on with those Dibbuns?" he said breathlessly. Dria laughed as she poured him some nearby dandelion and burdock water, "They were actin' like they'd been all given an apple toffee by Martin himself as long as they agreed to play all day for ím..."

"Not quite that," Dria smirked, "I just gave them a game to play-_-_the game of getting in some of the ripe fruit from the orchard."

"Hmm, how'd ye manage that, missy?" the hedgehog eased himself into a chair by the Cavern Hole table. "It almost take th' switch to get 'em t' do any other chores..."

"I told them it was a game, with a special prize at the end for the winner," she smiled slyly.

Brother Flint's face split into a wide grin.

"You pretty little cheat, you!" he teased, tipping his beaker of dandelion and burdock, "How th' good Abbey turned out such a great fibber like you, I'll never know."

"Sometimes a Redwall Warrior has to do whatever it takes to win the day for peace," Dria's eyes twinkled. Brother Flint dug into his habit's pockets and turned out a note, written on birch parchment.

"Well, all's well that ends well. Gatekeeper Harpwind thought ye might want to take a look at this," he held out the scrap of parchment, "Says it was addressed to 'an herbalist o' Redwall'. Since ol' Dobbs th' Infirmary Keeper's away on business tendin' to fever in th' otters, I thought ye were th' next most fittin' creature."

Dria took hold of the note and read it swiftly. There was detailed the abridged account in scrawling letters, barely readable to a very educated beast like the mouse Sister, but legible nonetheless. She tucked the message into her own habit.

"How dreadful," she said, "Th' owl has a fever now? I don't think Dobbs's usual treatment would work then. It's very different with th' birds than it is with us landbeasts."

"Aye, an' ye did take half a season's trainin' workin' with th' squirrel Forrasim t' learn how t' treat th' sparrows if they ever took to sick. So ye might be th' most qualified help th' ol' owl can find." Flint took a sip from the beaker, "So, will ye help?"

"Of course I will," she had a fiery look in her eyes, "I'll need to pop out into the forest for some of the different herbs I'll need, but I'll do't. Where does this owl live?"

"On th' other side o' Skeleton Rocks, north."

Dria felt a shiver. That was around the area where the fox slavers had first captured her and gave her her first beating. And it was the same area where she had escaped from those wretched vermin. She did not really wish to return to such a place, one that held such awful memories, but the life of an innocent was on the line. And she was a Redwaller.

"I'll go there." She stood, hastily striding towards the stairs to get her travel satchel, "You'll probably see me in a couple days. I'll just nip up for my bag an' go down t' th' kitchens to get some supplies first. Then I'll be right out t' help that pore bird."

Brother Flint watched her go, still draining the beaker of steeped water. He nodded to himself, alone in Cavern Hole.

"Ah, lovely girl." He said, "Prime Redwall stuff, her."

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Something very random indeed that came out of my brain the other day. There will be four, maybe five parts. Please remember to review!


	2. World of Many Sorrows

The Pit and Where It Leads

Chapter 2:

World of Many Sorrows

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Drangar the fox was in a foul temper. His slaver band had been cut down from thirty to barely over twenty sometime in the night. And nobeast knew exactly why. The sentry's account was no good-_-_it was obvious that the idiot was lying, having slept through his watch.

It wasn't so much that he knew his beasts were dead, it was that they were just gone. Vanished. The last time he'd seen them was last night, sharing warm ale over the fire in celebration of getting a new batch of five mouse slaves in a raid. Now eight of his foxes were missing.

The huge fox let out a sigh and drained another flagon of ale, gone cold now. He could see two of his number bumbling up from the woods below the hill they were camped on, and they were white as sheets. Drangar curled his lip back in a snarl.

"Don't tell me ya can't find 'em, ya stupid muckears!" he hurled the insult at them. The two stopped and shuffled, afraid to meet their master's eyes, "Well?! What'd ya find?"

"We...we found 'em, Chief..."

"Or what kinda looks like 'em."

Drangar raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Dead, eh?" he growled and took another pull of ale, "From what? Or did somebeast knock 'em off?"

"You'd... you'd better just come an' look, Chief," the foxes cowered as Drangar stood to his full enormous height.

"Lead me to 'em then, scurvy pups," he stepped on one's tailbrush as he turned around. "When I say, stupid worm. Did ya hear me say go, eh?" He snatched the much smaller fox up by his scruff and shook him, "Eh?! Ya hear me say go?"

"Guh...No, Chief!"

Drangar dropped his victim, then kicked him to the side as the other slaver hustled off to lead his master to the discovery.

A short trek through the woodlands brought them into a boulder field, a place where many pieces of peach and rose-hued bedrock came jutting through the surface of the earth. Drangar looked around impatiently, then kicked the fox slaver in the footpaw.

"Well?!" he said, and the other fox cowered behind a stone, "Where are they then? I ain't pickin' through all this rock mess!"

"Ya don't 'ave to, sire." The fox's voice shook, pointing a claw just beyond a large sycamore tree betwixt two smaller stones, "They're just beyond there..."

Drangar eyed his subordinate suspiciously, wondering why he seemed so reluctant to return to the scene. His slavers weren't bothered by blood or bodies of slain beasts, they'd made so many. Huffing, the big fox stomped off, rounding the bend and coming around the tree.

What he saw made even a hardened monster as himself gasp and draw back.

There were the eight foxes, strewn about the stones and forest debris as if a windstorm had thrown them about. One was even halfway in the lower branches of a blackthorn. All of the creature's faces and limbs were swollen to nearly twice their normal size, and made even more grotesque by the waxy purple and blue sheen covering them. Drangar was at a loss for an explanation for nearly two minutes as he stared at the carnage. He felt the shivering fox come up beside him before he saw him.

"What coulda done this?!" the large fox turned to his crony, "This some kinda magic ya know about?"

"N-nay, not magic, sire..." the little fox padded up gingerly beside one of the nearest bodies and lifted a pike from beside him. The weapon was splintered and snapped like green wood, ruined in three different places. There was a faint tinge of blood crimsoning the blade. "This looks l-like a great poisontooth got to 'em..."

"Poisontooth?" Drangar recoiled, wheeling about and drawing his dagger, "Close by?! Why didn't nobeast tell me there was poisontooth adders in these woods?!"

"Eh... We thought you already knowed, sire-_-_gack!" The slaver master snatched the unfortunate fox up by the throat and shook him.

"Stupid idgit!" He flung him down, "Never think you can know nothin' about Drangar! If I'da know about th' poisonteeth around here, I'dve never come! Addlebrain!" The fox kicked out again, scoring a hit to the bewildered lackey's shoulder, "Next time we come into an area, don't ya dare withhold information from me! Or you'll be as dead as them, just in more pieces!"

Crawling away from his master's wrath on all fours, the fox fled the boulder field whimpering. Drangar sighed as he left, his colossal temper sated, for now. He glared down at the body of the dogfox nearest him, curling his lip up.

"Hunh!" He kicked the body, sending a chipped dagger from its stiffened paws. "Idgit. Imagine gettin' killed by a stinkin' serpent with seven mates t' back ya up. If it were me, I'da had a new snakeskin tunic afore sundown!" He turned, trying not to show how hard he was trembling, as he bragged on, "Aye, I'd send that scaly bastard straight t' Hellgates where 'e belongs. An' I'll kill 'is brood too, fer messin' with me crew! I'll rip their hearts out an' make th' cold-eyed blighters watch me foxes eat 'em!"

* * *

"For the last time, Jobin, you are not coming with me!"

The otter leaning on a javelin merely chuckled and shook his head.

"Oh, right, I get ya." He winked, "I'm _not_ comin' witcha, okay."

"I mean it, soggyrudder," Dria fought hard to keep a stern face as she turned to him again, "You are not coming out of these walls with me. I am the only one needed and I am the only one who will go."

Jobin scratched an ear and grinned. He slung the javelin over his back and knotted it there with a thin cord so it would stay there until he needed it.

"Actually, Abbess Benewyn says I'm supposed t' go with you in case there's trouble." He rushed forward and gave the mousemaid a dramatic hug, dipping her and ignoring her squeaking protest, "Whatever would we all do, beautiful Sister Dria, is you were t' slip and sprain yore lovely paws whilst trekking in those fateful dark woodlands? Nay, my dear, I'll save ye."

"Great," Dria grumbled as she found her way upright and shoved the otter playfully, "You know, I liked you when you were a Dibbun."

Jobin ignored her and reached into his pocket, pulling out a candied chestnut. Dria eyed him meaningfully, and Jobin hid it behind his back.

"I didn't steal it! Friar said I could 'ave it."

"Did he now?" Dria muttered, striding along at a pace she hoped would be a bit too much for the otter escort, "Wasn't it last week he said if you ever come near his kitchens again he'd, what was it? 'Strip th' fur off of yore flappy tail until it turns blue'?"

Jobin laughed joyfully at the memory, popping the chestnut in his mouth. "Yah, it was somethin' like that. I forget."

"That's yore problem," Dria muttered under her breath.

"Wot?"

"Didn't say anythin'."

The pair made a great deal of progress heading north along the broad path that ran beside the Abbey, leaving the side of the expansive flatlands before noontide and entering the shady woodland portion of the path as it wound relentlessly northward. Dria stopped and sat upon a stone, unstopping a canteen and sipping at cool mint tea that she had packed for herself. Jobin scurried about, full of endless energy. He scoffed pilfered candies by the pawful between somersaults and tree-climbings.

"Where's this ole owl duffer supposed t' be, anyway?" Jobin hung from an oak branch by his legs. Watching him intensely and imagining him falling painfully, Dria winced and returned her canteen to her shoulder satchel.

"Just north of Skeleton Rocks, I told you that when we left." she snipped. Jobin released his hold from the tree and flipped in the air, landing perfectly with hardly a stumble.

"Oh, okay. I forgot th' first time." The otter grinned.

"Let's get going," the mousemaid shook her head at the foolish beast's easy attitude. "I need to find some sanicle and yarrow before we press on. Shout if you see any, but for all mercy _don't _touch it. I'll do all the herb gathering, thank you."

"Okay," the otter picked at his claws, "Hmm, it's almost like you don't trust me!"

"Almost!" Dria forced a smile.

They broke the pattern of following the broad dusty path, maneuvering much more slowly through the foliage of Mossflower in its prime season. The two could hear, but not see, myriad species of birds conversing in their strange, melodious tongues above them, with the occasional distant cry of a rook or jay. The verdant leaves seemed to glow light green, and toadflax flowers lined their way as they began climbing a shallow hill towards the reddish forms of the edge of Skeleton Rocks.

Long ago, some Abbeybeasts had named them, but by now the reason was long forgotten. They did know, however, that it was something to do with Abbess Tansy, first and so far only hedgehog abbess. Dria swept sweat-clinged headfur out of her eyes and was forced to seat herself upon a small sandstone rock as the incline took its toll on her not-quite-young bones.

"Let's just wait here a bit, Jobin," she panted roughly, seeking her canteen again, "I'm really not used to all this..."

"What? What for?" the otter turned and leaned against a hawthorne, "I'm not tired. You tired, Dria? My, getting old must be a harsh thing... Yow!"

The karmic cycle of insult completed itself as the otter leaned a bit too hard on the hawthorne tree, one of the species's notoriously nasty thorns piercing his pawpad. Dria smirked slightly as he hopped about, clutching the minor injury and cursing like a sailor.

"My, my," she took a sip of water at her leisure, "How well we've raised you."

* * *

Light had come, and Sempera had yet to find cover. Her wound was not grievous; the power of serpents to resist infection was legendary. But it was painful, dogging her every movement, slowing her to an agonizing crawl. The gash in her side was as if the aggressor, that fox, had never left and was continuing in his quest to make her last hours living hell.

The adder had no choice but to move away from the redstone field and its inviting warmth; the foxes were there, creeping among the rocks with steel weapons that could pierce her armored scales. And they weren't just foxes. Sempera was considered a good judge of character by her peers, other serpents. She sensed great evil in them, a willingness to do harm.

Or, even worse in her mind, a lack of willingness to resist doing harm. Such apathy was the seed of all wickedness.

Tremors lit up her senses. In her mind's eye an image formed. Two beasts, one great in size, the other diminutive, were approaching, but not directly. They were moving more parallel to her, lying in her quivering agony on the forest floor with a slit opened in her back almost dead center of her great length. Her beautiful patterns would be forever marred by the action of that single pikeblade.

"Thhssss..." she let out a heavy breath, the air hissing through her wide reptilian lips. A twinge of fear poked at her heart like a sword; would the foxes return in greater numbers? She had barely fended off the eight of them when they ambushed her in her nightly hunt. Now injured, she would not fare well against even more enemies.

She forced her protesting muscles forward, curling herself into a spiral on the lee side of some stones and setting her great wedge-shaped head atop one. Her moon-like eyes scanned the forest floor down the slight slope. Her vision was not so keen in the daytime. She could make out some movement in the distance, amongst the alder and oak, but not much else. Her tongue flipped out for reassurance.

Well, these weren't the foxes, or even foxes at all. One was an otter, still a rather dangerous and unpredictable beast to be around for any adder. They were aggressive to any snake who found themselves in a riverdog's shadow, and woe to any hunting snake who by the raw deal of chance had targeted the friend of an otter. _No, _Sempera thought darkly, _it doesn't matter if the otter is a friend. They attack whether it is stranger or comrade under threat._ And there was little chance of mercy from an otter either-_-_more than once she'd seen siblings, friends, mates even, dispatched by snarling otters who called them at last "rotten reptiles" or "cold-hearted slimers".

The scent of the other, smaller creature would have been calming by itself. A mouse, alone, was no danger to a wounded snake. But with the otter... That gave Sempera cause to worry. Would this otter copy the formula of all other otters she had seen, and pit himself against the adder on sight, out of a will to "protect" the small one? Sempera twitched her tail uneasily, forgetting for a moment that the motion would send fires of pain all through her body.

The mouse scent seemed familiar. Sempera never forgot a face (or a scent), and this one she felt she had encountered before.

"Bold little mousssse..." she mused, the faint vestige of a nostalgic smile hovered on Sempera's broad mouth. It had been over eight seasons, but she remembered vividly the time a small mousemaid broke into her den and stood up to her inquisitive stares. That pine branch! It was no kind of weapon to have a hope against an adder with. The very thought tickled the snake's fancy.

Distracted, she hardly noticed the pricking claws lighting on her back, just above her wound.

"Sparra kiiiilleeeet!"

Sempera felt a sharp conical beak dig into her flesh like a nail through wood. Her mouth gasping open in the shock of pain, she rounded like a whiplash, the sparrow fighter's dumbstruck face rushing towards her in a blur as she struck out in her own defense.

A quick jab of the fangs, venom or no venom, was all it took to dissuade the bird for the moment. Sempera had chosen to keep her strike light, careful not to stimulate the venom glands if she did not yet need to. There was very little chance the sparrow would know of this ability. It would very likely believe itself soon to die, and fly off in a panic.

The bird staggered backwards over a log, falling on its back and flailing wings with harsh cheeping cries. There were suddenly more sparrows, clouds of them, swarming like bees. All of them chanted the same brutish syllables:

"Killeeet! Killeeet!"

Sempera recoiled her powerful neck back in fear, but the illusion of menace around this movement was ingrained in the minds of the equally terror-fueled birds. They perched upon the ground then fluttered up, flying all around Sempera but not coming within her striking distance. Their incensed war cries filled the air, and Sempera's hidden ears throbbed. She waited patiently, helped along by the numb shock of being attacked a second time to stay quiet and still.

Two sparrows, younger than the others and full of reckless bravery, puffed out their breast feathers and stalked a Sparra war dance on the ground in front of her. Then, one after the other, they charged, flitting into her face and pecking maliciously with short, dagger-like beaks. Sempera thrashed her head from side to side to dislodge them. One flew off under one mighty heave and crashed into a alder bough. The other clung doggedly to her chin, trying to tear the serpent's eye out but being hindered by the hard, shiny fixed eyelid that protected it like the beaver of a steel helm.

Growling out a mixture of scream, hiss, and rasping whine, Sempera lashed out with heavy coils, feeling the pinch and tear that such movement caused her open back and the merciless stings of two dozen sparrows as they descended on her.

* * *

"Did you hear somethin'?" Dria looked up suddenly, cocking an ear to the wind. She had paused mid-trudge up the hill. Jobin waved a paw carelessly and continued on.

"Probably just some starlings fighting over a worm..."

"So it sounded like birds to you too?" Dria glanced over to him sharply, bracing her footpaws against the sliding scree and facing the eastern woodlands. The otter shrugged.

"I dunno. Been hearin' birds all mornin'," he said, "Why should a few more be anythin' but normal?"

"I don't know!" Dria snapped, pursing her lips and staring at the ground with her ears swiveling slightly, "I still hear it! It sounds like fighting and... something awful, like a wounded... something."

A blood-chilling noise, like roar and scraping steel combined with an anguished scream, rent the air. Dria and Jobin both went stock-still with fright. Their eyes both shot straight to the same patch of woodland, slightly downslope and east of them.

"What in fur an' webs was... Dria! Where d'you think yore goin'?" Jobin cried out. The mousemaid was not listening. She pelted down the hill, skidding and sliding on banks of leaf litter, toward the sounds of the intense struggle.

She realized with an inward curse that she had not brought the Abbey Sister's signature weapon, a simple ash staff, with her. Tripping, she fell paws-first into another deep drift of oak leaves and pine needles. He paw sunk in, and connected with a hard, bone-smooth object. She drew it out.

A pine branch, worn by sun and seasons and harder that the wood of a spear haft.

Something about the scene felt very familiar.

Standing, she hitched up her troublesome habit and sprinted to the short drop-off. All the terrible din was coming from behind there. Stepping off, she leaped, landing on three paws in deep needle piles, the branch held clear. She stood again, her eyes widening at the surreal sight.

Thicker than the oak or the alder, the armored coils of olive green, shiny black, and a few patches of purest white thrashed about, churning like the waves of the sea. A glimpse of red sickened the mousemaid-_-_she had thought she would never have to take in the sight of blood being spilled again. More and more little stars of red began decorating the scaly hide of the distressed serpent, caused by the razor beaks of a flock of determined sparrows buzzing around the adder. Dria was frozen for a moment. Neither side of the bloody forest war had noticed her yet. The pine branch hung loose in her paw.

* * *

CLIFFHANGER TIME! WAHAHAHAHA! Please remember to review!


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